I dunno yetany ideas?
by Jen32
Summary: You know...Harry Potter. It's all pretty much the same...isn't it?


Rain pounded the glass of the windows of the Hogwarts Express so hard they rattled as the train moved forward, slower than usual, due to the darkness and harsh conditions. The darkness of the night outside was no longer just normal for the train's speed. It was a deeper, harsher darkness that seemed to envelope you in a never-ending night as soon as you entered it. The deep gray clouds shielded the moon and stars, leaving a blackness that was penetrated only minimally by the light pouring from the train windows. The weather outside fit the students' moods perfectly. Normally, on the ride to Hogwarts, the students were raucous and excited, happy and loud. People ran to and from cars, stuffed themselves with junk food, played pranks, and yelled. No matter what any teachers riding the train may have said to them, the mood was never dampened.  
  
Not tonight, though. Tonight, the students sat in their own cars, not frequently crossing the thresholds into others. The only sound came from the movement of the train, the quiet talking of the students, and the rain. Though under normal circumstances there would have been considerably less pranks pulled due to the absence of the Weasley twins, both of whom had graduated from Hogwarts last year. Much to their disappointment, had they been here, no one even thought of playing pranks tonight. Happiness seemed to be long abandoned, and the feeling hovering in the air was a melancholy one.  
  
In one car, near the back of the train, three students were seated. One, a fifteen-year-old girl, sat curled up on a seat of her own, a schoolbook propped open in front of her as she munched silently on a cauldron cake she'd bought. Two others, boys of the same age, sat across from her. One of the boys was polishing a broomstick, and the other was simply staring out the train window, into the dark, bleak, blankness beyond. Though all of them kept up their charades of normalcy, it was apparent that their hearts were not in it.  
  
Harry Potter sat down his Firebolt on the floor of the train car, and it's movement blended with the train's, vibrating in an unsteady manner. He tucked away the polishing kit and looked up. Neither of his friends had moved. Hermione Granger was still staring determinedly at her book, which would normally have been quite an average sight. However, Harry had been watching her, and the normally fast reader had been staring blankly at the same page for fifteen minutes, her eyes unmoving. He looked over at Ron Weasley. Ron noticed his friend's gaze and looked over at Harry. He was expressionless and when he spoke, breaking the silence for the first time in over an hour, his voice was just as toneless as his face had been. "Time to change into our school robes, I reckon. We should almost be there by now."  
  
No one moved, though Hermione did look up, apparently confused. Harry and Ron had no doubt she'd been lost in her thoughts until Ron had spoken.  
  
Harry scowled. "This is rather ridiculous, guys. We haven't seen or spoken to each other for an entire summer, and now I'm wondering if we're going to talk at all during the school year, either."  
  
Hermione looked a bit shocked. "But, Harry, you can't tell us you aren't scared. You, of all people . . ."  
  
"I'm not happy," Harry said in a distant voice. "But I'm not terrified, either. The fact is, this is what he wants. Terror. Mayhem. Disruption. We're giving him what he wants. If we can't fight him mentally, we certainly can't do anything physically."  
  
Ron remained quiet and looked back out the window. Hermione and Harry exchanged knowing glanced of sympathy for their friend, and diverted their own eyes from each other's.  
  
Voldemort was back. He'd come back to full strength the year before, at the final event of the Triwizard Tournament; Harry had witnessed it. But it was not until recently that he had done anything. And he had hit hard when he finally did. One week before, there had been a Ministry conference in eastern England. The point of the conference was to discuss the impending threat of Voldemort's return. Death Eaters had swarmed the conference about halfway through it, and attacked. They hadn't bothered much with torture, as they normally would have, though some had used the Cruciatus curse on their victims. The final death toll was thirty-two. Men and women from all different departments of the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge had been present, but had amazingly managed to escape the destruction and horror, along with twenty-seven others. Ron's brother Percy had attended the conference. He had not survived.  
  
Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Ron had always made sure all of Gryffindor knew he hated his brother. He'd frequently described his older sibling as annoying, stuck-up, power-hungry, arrogant, and a disciplinarian. He'd always supported, even helped, Fred and George when they bewitched his Prefect and Head Boy badges, or when they played pranks on him. He never missed a chance to put Percy down to his face. But he had always loved his brother, no matter what he had said. And losing him had torn him apart inside, and done the same to his entire family. Ron wasn't letting his pain show to his friends, or so he thought. Despite his illusion of normalcy, his grief showed in his distant stares, his silence, and his refusal to eat anything. So far, Harry and Hermione had been careful not to say anything to him.  
  
The whole of Hogwarts was frightened by this recent act of terror. Many that now attended Hogwarts had not been alive during Voldemort's first reign, and none, had they even been born, were old enough to remember. This was all new and terrifying to them. The only ones who had any idea of the type of terror Voldemort could inspire were Harry, Hermione, and Ron, though Harry most of all.  
  
In an effort to escape the depressing, anguished feeling that had come over them, Hermione stood. She picked up her Hogwarts robe and slipped into it. She had already been wearing the typical gray uniform, so this was all it was necessary for her to do, other than put on the uncomfortable tie they made even the girls wear to formal occasions like the Welcoming Feast, but she decided to put it off until later.  
  
Just as she was shrugging into the redlined, black robe that proudly bore the Gryffindor lion, she heard the door slide open behind her. She was startled, as no one had been by all night with the exception of Ginny, who'd stopped to talk to Ron, and the woman who was selling snacks. She spun around and felt herself grow even more depressed and angry. Draco Malfoy stood just inside the door, smirking. He hadn't bothered to close the doors, allowing the icy chill and rain to sweep inside. Hermione expected Crabbe and Goyle to step in at any moment, but for once in his Hogwarts career, he wasn't flanked by them.  
  
Harry and Ron turned to look at him in loathing and disgust. Ron also looked nervous. Hermione and Harry could tell that instantly, and knew that Ron was still in too much pain to care about sticking up for himself. He was just hoping that Malfoy hadn't come there to further his anguish.  
  
Instead of turning immediately to Ron, as they'd expected, Malfoy turned to Hermione, his cold eyes boring into hers, and his smirk widening. "Granger, Granger, Granger," he said in a mock-disappointed tone. "Getting undressed in front of Potter and Weasley? I didn't think you'd do something as un- Gryffindor-like as that. Too bad I missed the show."  
  
Hermione stiffened and glared at Malfoy witheringly. "How dare you imply something like that? I'd prefer it if you kept your petty, inappropriate comments to yourself, thank you."  
  
"You sure speak highly for a Mudblood," he sneered.  
  
"Leave me alone, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "I'm not in a good mood right now. Most of the school isn't in a good mood right now. Of course, you would be, though. This is probably what you've been waiting for your whole life. Slytherin scum."  
  
He feigned innocence and concern, all the while a teasing glint danced in his eyes. "Oh, I just meant that it must be most unsettling to be a Mudblood right now. What with You-Know-Who on the rise again. You know how much he hates Muggle-borns. I'd hate to see anything happen to you just because of your parentage."  
  
She narrowed her eyes and sat back down, picking up her book defiantly. "Your immature, implied threats do not scare me, Malfoy."  
  
"Have it your way, then," he said, turned to Harry and Ron, who had been watching the whole exchange silently, knowing better than to jump in unless Hermione needed their help, which it had been apparent she had not. "Well, Potter. Looks like everyone's been overestimating you for the past fifteen years, huh? 'The Boy Who Lived', 'The Boy Who Conquered the Dark Lord'. What rubbish. You just delayed Voldemort-you didn't destroy him. Some big hero you are. You even provided him with what he needed last year to come back to power. What a disappointment."  
  
Harry stood still as a stone, his face relaying no emotion, until Malfoy had finished. Finally, he spoke, an icy edge to his voice. "Better to have delayed him than to have done nothing at all, Malfoy."  
  
"Is it, though? Is it, if he comes back even more powerful than before?" Malfoy sidestepped Harry, feeling he'd inflicted his desired damage. He finally set his sights on Ron. Harry and Hermione watched silently, waiting to jump in, feeling they would be needed.  
  
"Weasley, long time no see," Malfoy said in a sickeningly sweet voice. He pulled a Daily Prophet out of his robes and tossed it on Ron's lap. "Brought you a present." Ron looked down at the front page, read the headline, saw the picture and tossed the paper back at Malfoy, who batted it aside. Pages fluttered everywhere through the air, finally resting on the floor. Hermione and Harry looked down and saw a picture of the large Dark Mark hovering meeting hall where Voldemort had attacked, and the bold headline: "Voldemort Returns".  
  
Ron and Malfoy's eyes had remained locked the whole time. "I just thought you might want to clip the article. I know a lot of people do that when their relatives make the papers."  
  
Hermione stood up furiously, and Malfoy turned to look at her. "Well, then you must have a large collection of articles, Malfoy. There sure have been a lot mentioning You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters in the past two decades."  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is there an implication in your words, Granger? Because if there is, spit it out."  
  
Hermione feigned an apologetic tone. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Malfoy, so sorry indeed. I should have known you'd be too thick to pick out the implication for yourself. So, I'll be blunt-you're scum. You're a Slytherin, you're one of the leading Death Eaters' sons, and I'm pretty certain you're a Death Eater yourself. You support You-Know-Who; you support his murders, his torture, and his pain. You're as bad as your father, and that's saying something, because your father is almost as bad as You-Know-Who himself!"  
  
Malfoy took a step towards Hermione, so that they were so close, they could feel one another's' breath. "And you are a filthy Mudblood, who pals around with poor, Muggle-loving wimps and loser glory-hounds. You might as well be a Muggle yourself, because you're no use to wizarding kind." His eyes traveled scornfully to the Gryffindor emblem on the front of her robes. "No Gryffindor is any use. Bravery is certainly not one of your traits. You're too afraid to even say His name! I'll tell you one thing, though, Granger. You've made an enemy out of me. Before, all I could do was complain, and tease you, and get you in trouble. Now, though . . . well, I have connections."  
  
"Your father, you mean," she replied acidly.  
  
He made no response, but a faint glimmer in his eyes told her she was right. "All I need to do is let it slip that a certain Mudblood named Hermione Granger is meddling in certain things she shouldn't be, and those connections will take great pleasure in ridding me of the problem."  
  
Hermione stared at him without any change of expression. "Tell your father and whomever else you plan to send after me that I do not fear you, or them, or Voldemort," she said calmly, stressing the last word.  
  
"There's a line you need to tread between courage and insanity. You've crossed that line, I'm afraid. You're plenty scared, Granger, because you know I'll do what I said I would. And trust me, my connection would love to kill you-and I assure you it would be a very unpleasant death."  
  
"Tell your connection to try. I do not intend to be scared away by you, or anyone else," Hermione said defiantly, stepping away from him. "And I'd advise you to stay away from me, for my own safety, and yours. I won't hesitate to hurt you, should we come upon each other in a deserted corridor, and should you have you wand in an attacking position. And I'm sure most teachers would be more willing to take my side, with the exception of Snape, whom everyone knows favors you." She turned her back on him and faced Harry and Ron, who'd been watching the whole exchange with bated breath, waiting to attack should the necessity arise, and hoping it would so they would have a go at Malfoy themselves. "Now, leave, Malfoy. You're not welcome here."  
  
The truth struck Malfoy, and he spun, looking astounded. She truly wasn't afraid of him! He'd been raised in fear, seeing pain and torture every day of his childhood. When he'd grown old enough, instead of being victim of the fear and the pain, he became the one that administered it, through his father's teachings. And whenever he'd chosen to truly use what he'd learned, his victim was afraid. Always. Knowing that Hermione Granger, a girl, and a Mudblood no less, did not fear him angered him beyond his deepest imaginings. He'd teach her that he meant what he said. He raised his wand before anyone could stop him, before he could even truly think it through himself. "Jevolosia!" he yelled.  
  
Hermione was suddenly flying through the air. She kept going until she slammed hard into the far wall of the train car. She then dropped to the ground and laid there, motionless, eyes closed.  
  
Malfoy had lost himself, back through endless childhood training. This was what he was meant for. To cause pain, and harm others. Why not experiment on Granger? He'd been dying to for years. Harry and Ron's presence had been driven totally from his mind. It was as though he were outside himself, watching from above. Potter and Weasley were invisible. Granger lay on the floor, helpless, hurt, and all he wanted to do was finish her off. But oddly, the strangest thing he saw was not himself standing with his wand pointed at her still figure-he didn't see himself at all. Instead he saw his father. He raised his wand again, his mind processing nothing but the desire to hurt, to kill. "Cru-"  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Malfoy's wand flew from his hand and into Harry's. Malfoy seemed to realize his surroundings again. Remembered where he was. Who he was. Who was with him. What he'd been about to do. He was quite aware of Harry and Ron's wands on him as he stood there. Both boys' faces were contorted in fury.  
  
Harry looked at him in unhidden loathing. "You're too much of a coward to even have a proper duel. Attacking while her back was turned! And you were going to use the Cruciatus Curse on her! You can't fight fair OR clean! What next? Avada Kedavera?" Harry nodded toward the door and tossed Malfoy his wand, which he deftly caught. "Get out! Before I call a teacher, which I swear I'll do. And she'd better not be hurt. That curse you aimed at her better not have done anything more than throwing her through the air, or I won't bother with a teacher. I'll kill you myself. Only I'll have the integrity to do it the proper way. Leave. Now."  
  
"Sure thing, tattle-tale Potter," he said, though he himself was a little unsettled. He moved to the doors and pulled them open. He turned back and saw that Ron was still pointing his wand at him. Harry was now kneeling by Hermione, who was sitting up. "Believe me now, Granger?" he yelled back, and then headed away from them into the darkness.  
  
Harry watched as Hermione sat up. She groaned in pain and put her hand to her forehead. Her eyes held a dazed, pained look. "You okay?" Harry asked.  
  
"Define okay," she said dryly. "My head is throbbing awfully, I'll have black and blue skin by tomorrow morning, and that spell made me so nauseous I want to vomit. If that's your definition, I'm okay."  
  
Harry grinned at her. Ron walked over to join them and helped her to her feet. "That low-down scum. He hadn't the right to say anything he did to you. Or Harry and I, for that matter, but particularly you. Why he seems more vindictive towards you now than us is a mystery only time will solve."  
  
"It's obvious, Ron," Hermione said dismissively. "I was provoking him more than you tonight, and he hated me for it. Also, I let him know I wasn't afraid of him, which irked him. Lastly, I'm positive he's a Death Eater now, and all Death Eaters hate Muggle-borns. No surprise he'd be crueler to me than usual tonight. Particularly cocky, I'll bet he is, now that his master's back and more powerful." She looked out the door Malfoy had just used to exit. "He meant what he said."  
  
Harry didn't bother denying what he thought. "Yeah, I think he did. But don't worry. You can take him, and no matter how good his contacts are, they can't get inside Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione shook her head, which she stopped quickly, as it caused her a splitting headache. "I don't know anymore, Harry. There was a time when I'd have agreed with you without a second thought, but that time has passed. With You-Know-Who around, and Dumbledore's fight with the Minister of Magic . . . I just can't be certain of anything anymore. Including our safety at Hogwarts. And the fact is, when your faith in the sanctity of a place you call home gets ripped away, it's really hard to feel safe anywhere, or with anyone. And hope seems kind of hard to reach."  
  
Soon after the encounter with Malfoy, the train pulled to a stop, and the teachers' yells to exit the train in an ordered manner filled their ears. The three teenagers pulled their luggage off the train, and ran through the rain to one of the horse-drawn carriages they were to take to the castle. For once, they didn't pause to say hello to Hagrid, as they were some of the first off the train, and he wasn't yet out there.  
  
Though it had only been a short run from the train to the carriage, they were all soaked by the time they pulled the door shut, and the carriages took off toward the castle.  
  
"I can't imagine having to go back to classes," Ron said worriedly. "Learning Transfiguration and Divination and Potions and all that just seems so pointless now. And I don't think I can take the whole school giving me pity stares every day. Not everyone's as considerate as you two. I'd rather be teased by Malfoy than have everyone coming up to me telling me how sorry they are when it really doesn't matter to them."  
  
"Classes aren't pointless, Ron," Hermione said sternly. "Now more than ever we need them. We need to know as much as we can to defend ourselves if the time comes when we need to."  
  
"Figures you'd defend classes," he said, smiling a little to show he was only kidding her.  
  
"Don't worry, it'll be all right," Harry said reassuringly. "Classes might actually be a welcome escape. You know, to get your mind off things. I know it'll help Hermione. I think it'll help me. Maybe it'll help you, too."  
  
Ron shrugged dejectedly and turned his face sideways to look out the window. "Yeah, maybe," he said quietly, and both his friends knew that the conversation had ended.  
  
Harry looked to Hermione. "Looking forward to the feast?" It was a lame attempt at conversation, he knew, but he felt he had to do something to keep the awful silence from the train from descending once more.  
  
"Not really," she said in a flat tone. "I figure it will be quite depressing, just like last year's feast after poor Cedric . . ." She stopped, knowing Harry still felt a little guilty about Cedric, though he never showed it. "Never mind. I just don't think anyone will be up to laughing and talking and having fun. It will be depressing, and I'm depressed enough, so I wish I could simply skip it."  
  
She, too, turned her attention to the window, though Harry knew neither she nor Ron could see anything but blackness.  
  
"Come on, Hermione," Harry said gently. "You honestly won't Malfoy to scare you, will you? He's full of it. Just forget about him."  
  
"Malfoy? Get to me?" She uttered a terribly fake laugh. "No, of course not. I'm just . . . tired, that's all," she finished lamely. She said nothing more, and Harry lapsed into silence, respecting his friends' desires not to speak.  
  
Reaching the castle, they all headed inside and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Many kids were already seated, but not yet even half of the school. Everyone was, for the most part, quiet, with the exception of the Slytherins, who all looked quite at ease. The decorations were the same as always. There were no black curtains as there had been last year after Cedric's death, but curtains of a different color were not necessary. The mood weighing upon them was more effective than any decoration could ever be.  
  
The teachers were all seated at the High Table, with the exception of Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid, all of whom were out fulfilling their usual duties. Snape was most likely prowling the corridors angrily, waiting to get any kid in trouble right from the start of the year. McGonagall was probably talking to the First Years, preparing them for the Sorting. Hagrid should be joining them any minute, once he'd finished directing the boats the First Years had used to cross the lake back to their normal areas. The teachers that were there, though-including, oddly enough, Professor Trelawny, who normally wouldn't dream of eating in such a big gathering- were all quiet and subdued, staring at their empty plates, or at the students filing in.  
  
It was quiet at the students' tables too, with the exception of dull, muffled greetings. Harry, Hermione, and Ron watched as their table slowly filled with their old friends. Harry couldn't help but miss the Weasley twins. Though if they'd been there, even they wouldn't have done anything to disrupt the silence, it still felt odd to go back to a Hogwarts without them and their pranks. Ginny came in later, and sat down next to Ron, and Neville joined them as well.  
  
Finally, everyone was at their tables, and McGonagall led the First Years into the Great Hall. They were all talking quietly and nervously, unaffected by the mood around them because of nerves. Most years, Hermione enjoyed the sorting, but she found herself tuning out for most of it. The last name she heard before entirely losing interest and focus was, "Jenna Ackroyd" whom the Sorting Hat took no time to sort into Ravenclaw.  
  
Finally, when the last name was called, and a particularly loud bout of applause filled the Hall, Hermione snapped back to attention. All the new students were seated at their respective tables, watching and listening, finally feeling the effect of the mood of all the rest of the students. Professor McGonagall put the hat away, and took her place at the High Table.  
  
Dumbledore stood, and cleared his throat, as he would normally have done to get their attention. Tonight, there was no need of that, for everyone was paying close attention. Harry noticed that the happy glint that normally danced in his eyes was absent, leaving them a dull, empty sort of gray- blue. "Welcome, once more, to another year at Hogwarts," he said loudly, his voice echoing through the silence of the Hall. "I apologize to our First Years. It is unfair to have to start your schooling in this normally happy place at such a sad time, and in such a melancholy atmosphere. I am, in particular, apologetic to those who have only recently found out about their magical abilities, and must come to a land torn by war. As most of you know by now, Voldemort has returned."  
  
There was a moment of hushed whispering amongst some small First Years who had heard of Voldemort, and even those who hadn't, and were asking for an explanation. Some of the older students winced at the Dark Lord's name, but said nothing.  
  
"I do not wish to recount these tragic events for those here who have already dwelled upon it quite enough, but it is something I must do for those few of us that do not know.  
  
"Voldemort, came back to power last year, at the end of the school year. He killed one of our own students, Cedric Diggory, and quite nearly killed another, Harry Potter. We have all been waiting with bated breath ever since, waiting for the inevitable day when his attack would come. That day came, last week. A conference was held by the Ministry of Magic, and it was attacked. Thirty-two people died. Some children here have ties to those who were. Timothy Smith, of Hufflepuff, lost his second cousin. Rene Abbott, of Ravenclaw, lost her uncle. Ron and Ginny Weasley, of Gryffindor, lost their older brother, who just two years ago graduated from Hogwarts himself."  
  
At the mention of her brother, Ginny's eyes filled with tears and a muffled sob escaped her lips. Ron hugged her to him and tried to help her calm down. She'd been taking it harder than he had-or at least, letting it show more. While Ron avoided the subject of Percy, Ginny started crying every time he was mentioned. Other Gryffindors averted their eyes, doing their best to give the grieving siblings their privacy. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Dumbledore, not wanting to make Ginny feel worse by helping console her. Hagrid shot them both a look of sympathy from his seat at the High Table  
  
Dumbledore, who was obviously aware of Ginny's reaction, kept on task, trying not to draw unwanted attention to her. "As you all know, this is a hard, and frightening time. I must assure you all that you are safe here. Even during Voldemort's first reign, he never attacked us at Hogwarts."  
  
"But isn't he more powerful now?" Someone from Hufflepuff called. "What if he tries?" A lot of kids echoed their agreement quietly.  
  
"He very well might," Dumbledore assured, causing many kids to start talking out of worry. "Silence," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand, which was enough to quiet them. "I will tell you the truth when asked a question- it is a firm belief of mine. Sometimes the truth is frightening, yes, but I feel it's better to be scared and prepared than carefree and ignorant. However, while the possibility remains, I do not believe he would try such a bold move, and if he does, it will surely not be for a while. He needs to regroup his allies. And also, the teachers and I have a plan. It is nothing concrete, but if it works, it will help to protect all of us. That is all I can say for now. Now, back to the general notices . . ." and Dumbledore continued on addressing the first years of the great importance of not entering the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Harry and Hermione tuned out as Dumbledore went over the usual list of rules. Ron was still trying to console Ginny.  
  
"I wonder what Dumbledore's plan is?" Harry asked curiously, glancing the Headmaster out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"I dunno," Hermione replied. "Whatever it is, I just hope it works."  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
The feast had began. On any other occasion, Ron would've dug into the large pile of chicken legs that appeared on the table as if he hadn't eaten in years, but today he didn't. Just sat, poking at mashed potatoes Hermione had forced onto his empty plate. Harry didn't eat anything either. Nor did Ginny. Hermione may have prodded at a piece of pumpkin pie, but the break off the crust might have been there when she scooped it onto her plate. Most of the students ate something, though none ate much. There were more leftovers than ever, but the Slytherins' plates all bore signs of eaten food. Draco Malfoy was laughing loudly, as if to make everyone hear it, at a corny joke told by a first year.  
  
Soon enough Professor Dumbledore stood and announced the end of the feast. He directed prefects to show their houses back to their rooms. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny tried not to notice the new prefects as they followed the rest of thier house to Gryffindor tower. Harry just barely heard the password ("Pickled Elves Eyes") as he crawled through the portrait hole behind Ron and Ginny, infront of Hermione. Ron and he walked to their dormatorily bleakly, beside Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas. Harry wondered silently that if the Weasly twins had been here if they'd have given Ron and Ginny a hard time with their grief over Percy. Or if they'd try to console them, or grieve as well. He decided mentally that the twins, however foolhearted and focused on giving people trouble, wouldn't have made jokes about something so awfully serious. Which, as he crawled into his bed in his dormitory, made him think about his godfather. Why hadn't Sirius written him in so long? Of course, he thought, no news from Sirius is probably good news.  
  
Then, as if he was reading Harry's thoughts, Ron sat up and broke the silence with something none of them had mentioned since last year, "Heard from Snuffles lately?" Harry shook his head "You-uh-you don't think he could've been inv-,"  
  
Ron was stopped by the violent shakings of Harry's head and him repeating the word "NO." as if he refused to believe that it could be true, but knew it very well could.  
  
Ron nodded and lay back down. Harry, who's thoughts were had been contorted by Ron's talking, tried to regain balance between his physical and mental self, he didn't know what to think of anything except that plainly stated and clear. The dorm was considerably quieter than usual, the only sound penetrating the dull air was the snoring of Neville, who had also been touched by the recent happenings. His parents were hit by the Crutacius curse in their days as aurors and had gone insane because of it. That's why Neville lived with his grandmother. That's why, Harry supposed, that Neville didn't do well in his studies. He didn't think there was much to live for, if they were going to lose it all when they eventually come to the fate of every mortal. Death. And Harry was starting to think that maybe Neville was right.  
  
Though his mind told him to stay awake, he lay down and fall asleep, looking at his watch as it flickered dimmly over to 12:16 AM.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry was awoken by an ugly bird, prodding at the window of the dormitory. He blinked and fumbled for his glasses in the darkness. When he got them on his face he went to the window and opened it. The bird that flew in was ugly, wrinkled, and smelled of dead animals. It perched on Harry's four- poster, looking 'round the room proudly. Harry noticed the others were still in their beds and the time on his watch read that it was only 3:13 AM. Harry automatically knew that this letter must have been from Sirius. The bird had dropped in on the table beside Ron's bed and Harry went to retrieve it. As he did, he awoke Ron purposely, who groaned and in a voice most unlike his own said "Yes, Harry?"  
  
"Ron! Ron! I've gotten a letter from Siri- I-I mean Snuffles!" said Harry. Ron quickly sat up and Harry sat on the bed beside him and began reading quietly, as not to wake the others.  
  
Harry,  
  
How've you been? Truley sorry I haven't written in so long. It's been awful trying to find a bird who's still living. This one's a vulture, and he's almost dead as it is I suspect. Write me back with Hedwig. I think mine'll die on the journey home. Hope the muggles have been treating you well. Happy Birthday, by the way! I've gotten you something. It's secured under the bird's left wing. I was afraid he might not be able to carry it in his beak, and he didn't approve of me tying things to his legs. Make sure he doesn't pinch you while you're getting it. You heard about Voldemort's rise, I hope. Well, I know you have. It must've been on the muggle news. Be on the lookout Harry. I'll blame myself for anything that happens to you. I wish I could be there. Maybe someday. I heard they got your friend, Ron's brother. Send him my condolances if you will. I hope he's well and I know just what he's going through. Did you see that article on me in The Daily Prophet a few months back? They've got it all wrong, did you notice? I'm no where near Indonesia! Bucky's well. I'm a little shaggy, but well. Tell Hermione I said hi.  
  
With Love,  
  
Snuffles  
  
Harry smiled as he finshed up, but Ron just looked conflicted. "It's nice of him, but how could he know what I'm possibly going through?" he said, ignoring his attempts to look fine about the whole ordeal.  
  
Then Harry said plainly, "My dad."  
  
Ron's look dissapeared and he said "Let's see the gift." He walked over and lifted the ugly bird's wig and a small box fell out. He looked at it and said "Not very big, is it?" Harry walked over and tapped it with his finger, then opened it. Inside was a miniscule egg. It was black and had silvery dots on it. Harry cautiously prodded it with his finger.  
  
"What does it do?" then he noticed a slip of paper poking out from the corner of the little box. He pulled it out and opened it and read "Open the egg with your wand. Beware of the treasure that awaits you." And Harry did. He pulled his wand out of his trunk and opened the egg. Staring back at him then was a miniscule dragon, unmoving. Ron gasped.  
  
"Look at it! It's encrused in diamonds! It's eyes are sapphires!" he said. Harry noticed and touched the dragon gently with his fingers, and to Ron and hs surprise, the emerald wing, flapped stiffly.  
  
"I know what that is! It's a luck dragon! Your's is a Hungarian Horntail! He must've gotten you that one because of the Triwizard Tournament! Harry, these are rare and valuble. Do you know what it does?!"  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
"It alerts you of danger. It gives visions of the future! This is amazing Harry. This might very well be as much as the Firebolt! You have the coolest Godfather!" Ron struggled to keep afoot under the commotion running through him.  
  
"Wow." Harry said. He looked it over in his hand. It was only about an inch in height and quite beautiful. He noticed that it was silver with diamonds. The eyes were sapphires and it's wings were emeralds. The tip of it's tail was solid gold and it had onyx stripes on it's miniscule legs. He looked at his watch again. "It's four thirty am, Ron! We've got to go back to bed!" And they both did, feeling much better than they had the first time they fell asleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A banging on the boys' dormitory door told them it was time to get up. Harry fumbled in the dim space for his glasses and when he got them on his face he looked around. Neville, Seamus, and Dean had left. He and Ron were the only ones left in the room. He streched his arms into the air and then muttered loudly, "Ron, Ron. Wake up."  
  
Ron moaned, "Snuffles. Snuffles who?" and Harry chuckled as he got up. "Oh, morning already?" asked Ron dazily. He looked out the window and the risen sun "So it is." his voice was light and happy. Those were the few seconds before Ron remembered where he was or why his eyes stung so badly.  
  
Harry put on his clothes and robes and pushed down his hair with his palms. Ron did the same only slower, the reality of what happened sinking in again. They both walked out of the dormitory and downstairs to find Hermione reading infront of the fire. "You don't stop, do you?" said Harry. She ignored the question and looked at him testily.  
  
"Ready to go to breakfast?" she said. Harry shook his head and pulled Sirius' letter out of his deep robe pocket.  
  
"Got a letter from Snuffles last night." Harry said. He handed it off to Hermione who read it quickly.  
  
"He's never mentioned me before in one of his letters. He must be in a good mood. He's probably in South Africa, judging by the bird." Hermione said, Ron and Harry feeling slightly dull because they hadn't picked up on any of that. "So, have you written him back?" she said. Harry shook his head again.  
  
"I suppose I'll write him this afternoon. After classes, tell him how my first day back was. Hedwig's gotten a bit bored lately anyway. The Hogwart's owl I got was a bit flashy for her liking. Looked a little like a peacock." he said. He imagined Sirius in some underground cave in Africa. Which made him think about why Sirius was there. Which made him think about Peter Pettigrew. Which made him think about Scabbers. Which made him think about Ron. Which made him think about Scabbers' first owner...Percy. The time Harry stood there thinking he began to think about Neville, and what he'd thought about him. He wondered if he should tell Hermione and Ron, but then thought that it was a little too deep. That they might've been worried. As both frequently were about him. More so, after Voldemort's rise. They all left the baren common room and began to walk to the Great Hall.  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
Breakfast didn't seem quite as melancholy as the feast on the previous night had been. Scattered talking filled the air, and loathing or sincere smiles were upon a few peoples' faces. Though the mood at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's table hadn't changed. Ginny still wept softly and Ron still didn't eat. Harry's spirits were slightly uplifted since Sirius' letter and Hermione spent most of breakfast watching the students of Slytherin and wondering how they could be so guiltless.  
  
It had become apparent that this would be a Hogwart's year like no other. In all Harry's years he'd never seen such gloom draped upon such a mass of people. Harry began to think about he and Ron's first class. Care of Magical Creatures. It had been his favorite class since his third year at Hogwarts, but the mood had changed over everything. Even Peeves the poltergiest hadn't played any tricks on anyone. Yet, anyways. Hermione's first class was Arithmancy, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Ginny's was dreaded Potions with Professor Snape. Sadly, you couldn't drop that until your fifth year at Hogwarts. Ron and Harry had. Hermione, however, said it was a nessacary evil to become a fully trained witch.  
  
Harry looked forward to one class though. All of his teachers had always expected him to be top in this class and that was Defense Against The Dark Arts. Harry supposed he most looked foreward to meeting the newest teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts because there'd never been one that'd lasted an entire year. This year, the teacher was kept top secret. Harry'd heard hunches from Mr. Weasly that it'd be Viktor Krum. Hermione had mentioned nothing about this though. She was a great secret keeper, but he knew that she'd've told them about something such as that. Harry figured that would brighten Ron's day considerably but he didn't think that that Krum would be the new teacher. Not being in the Wizarding world, he didn't really know who to wish for.  
  
"What about Professor Lupin coming back?" Hermione said. Professor Lupin was a werewolf. He was the only DADA teacher the students had gone away happy with. Even though Harry, Ron, and Hermione's expirience with him was enough for him to quit. He feared he'd bite someone at the school.  
  
Harry shrugged. He wished Professor Lupin would come back but knew that it was an impossibility. 


End file.
